Inhuman
by quillor
Summary: Something happened and the ship crashed before it could rescue the boys. Jack had all the power in his hands, but he's not going to let Ralph die a martyr. He had other plans in mind, and he was going to make sure he made Ralph die painfully. JackRalph
1. Chapter 1: The First Day of Death

**Well, okay. First slash fic ever. D: This kinda feels weird. XD I love Lord of the Flies, though. Read it two years ago and still loved it. **

**Anyways, this story is the ever-so-original what happens if the ship doesn't come thingy, but this time, I gave a reason as to why the ship never came :D And, uh, I got bored with the 'they looked at each other, baffled, in love and hate' quote, so I searched for a new quote that makes JackRalph cannon, and here it is !(just scroll down)**

**Btw, this fic MAY have a sequel, and this one is more focused on one-sided JackRalph pairing. Beware of violence, insane obsessive behaviors, supernatural stuff and angst. **

**Disclaimer: No, I did not write about naked boys running around an island trying to rape pigs of the same sex as me. William Golding did. Yeah, he's a genius pervert. **

**REVIEWS AND FLAMES ARE ALL WELCOME. You can call me shit and I won't even mind as long as you give me your opinion _**

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_Then there was that indefinable connection between himself and Jack; who therefore would never let him alone; never._

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Ralph crashed down through the dense crowds of trees – the branches and sharp twigs slam into the sides of his skin, grazing merciless scratches over his arms and legs, drawing tiny specks of blood that oozed through his fair skin and melted down onto the ground. He was exhausted, his lungs were screaming for a breath of air, and his feet were severely scratched, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.

Behind him, another bush burst into flames.

Ralph gasped, desperate to break free of the shackles of smoke, and stumbled through the forsaken jungle, blind and weak and frightened.

_Like a pig_, he thought bitterly, and let out a soft sound between that of a laugh and a sob as he realized that he was trapped in the blazing inferno of the jungle – so close to the lagoon, so close to being alive, so close to escaping this insane island.

_That's as far as you'll ever get_, whispered the familiar voice of Jack Merridew in his head, sneering and enjoying his downfall. _So close to power, so close to getting rescued. But that's it. I beat you._

Ralph tripped and was sent tumbling down onto the ground, choking on the strangling wisps of smoke. His legs ached and his eyes were running with tears – from despair and from the suppressing force of the heat around him. Ralph closed his eyes for a moment, his whole body refusing to obey the screaming sounds of _run run run_ in his head. He could see his father, his mother, and his lost friends Piggy and Simon. They were cloudy figures, all smiles and cheers and waving hi to him, when he knew that in reality his father was probably fighting in some war, his mother was crying for his lost family, and Piggy and Simon were nothing but fish fodder. _And soon, I'm going to be one too_, he said to himself, imagining a spear through his heart and Jack's triumphant face over his body. Somewhere in the sky, thunders clash and the black clouds swirled.

_Run, Ralph, _said a voice from the back of his mind, horribly similar to Simon's. _You'll get back alright_.

Ralph couldn't help but wanting to believe that voice – that strange echoing sound, as if someone was whispering to him from a very distant place and yet sound very, very close. He thought he was going crazy from all the smoke he had inhaled, but then, they all had gone crazy. Even himself.

A creeper near the side of his arm crackled and twitched as it caught fire, quickly lighting the leaves around it on flames. For one fleeting moment, Ralph's brain burst back into life and he realized that no, he did not want to die. Not on this forsaken island by something he had cherished and believed to bring hope and rescue. With one final struggle, he got up on his battered feet and ran once again, ignoring the crackles and the roaring rage of fire behind. He couldn't see where he was going, didn't know what he was aiming for and ran blindly through the forest, until the soil beneath him gave away and melted into the warm, friendly sands of the beach. He collapsed almost instantly, coughing and trying to get the roaring _thump thump thump _of his heart to calm down.

"There he is!"

Ralph didn't even look up to see who the voice belonged to. All the boys have molded into one single figure of Jack's tribe in his mind, and he knew they were moving towards him in one unified movement.

Soon enough, he felt a hand in his hair, jerking his head up with such force that he was forced to a kneeling position.

"See?" roared the boy who held him – who, of course, was Jack Merridew. "This is the boy who once was your chief! Now," he pushed away Ralph's head, as if he was some sort of garbage, and sent the fair-headed boy sprawling over the sand again, "he's nothing but a _pig_."

The boys cheered on – Ralph could almost see Roger wearing a triumphant smirk behind the large crowd of savages.

Heavy droplets of water began to fall, slapping against Ralph's bare skin. He closed his eyes. They felt cold and icy as they battered his face and arms and legs, but he felt cleansed. Cleansed from the fire and from Jack's grip and from the horrible memories. But he knew that once he opened his eyes again, he would see Jack and his tribe and his authoritative spear against his chest, drawing life away from him slowly, and painfully.

A thunder boomed somewhere up in the sky, its noise deafening and explosive. Some littluns began to wail. Jack ignored them and continued to stare at his prey, a victorious grin painted on his face, seeming oblivious to the increasingly rhythmic beat of rain on his skin. Some of the boys started to grumble and murmur as their paint melted off with the big drops of water. For a fleeting moment, they looked like normal British boys just playing war against each other, but then Roger – the paint on his face all washed off – came forward, and he was brutal enough to look a savage without foolish clay patterns on his body. He approached Jack, casted one glance at the heap on the sand that was Ralph, and turned to his Chief.

"Chief," he said, in the flat, monotone voice he had always used. "What are we going to do?"

Jack licked his lips and gripped his spear tightly. He had so many visions of how he'd kill this boy who had defied him, the boy who had so stubbornly stuck to his beliefs and pushed Jack aside. He could kill him, then stick his head on a stick, but that would be too… fast. Roger would want him to do that, though, because Ralph's death means full power for Jack and his tribe, and Roger would get the liberty to do anything he wanted too. But would it be right? To let this rebellious pig just die, that easily, that _heroic_?

Jack turned to his crowd of savages. They were all shivering and naked without the paint – the sight of them clayless made them look weird and remote to Jack, but he ignored it and shouted out over the buzzing of the rain.

"Let's vote!" he shouted, suddenly feeling the nausea of the old civilization he once lived in. "Who thinks we should kill him and stick his head on a stick?"

Almost all hands pushed up. Jack saw Samneric gaped in horror between the boys and smirked. Below him, Ralph made a sound like that of a whimper.

"What do you think, Samneric?" he asked slyly, enjoying the identical look of terror on the twins. "Should we kill your _beloved_ chief? Perhaps you could do the honor of sticking his head into a stick, eh?"

Samneric was clinging to each other, practically ripping the skin off each other. Several other boys laughed and started prodding them with their spears. The twins winced, but made no fleeing movement. They knew what would happen if they stepped out of the line. Jack wouldn't be happy, and Roger would always take care of the things that made Jack unhappy. Those two boys were like twins of their own kind.

"Answer the Chief," said Roger. His voice was mild and calm and flat, but Samneric felt the sharp, icy coldness hidden behind his every word. They said nothing, though, and remained clinging to each other. If they had said no, Roger would undoubtedly torture them even more for being disloyal to Jack, but if they had said yes, then Ralph would…

"That's okay, Roger," Jack said, still staring at the twins' pale faces. "Anyone else has a suggestion?"

For a second, the murmurs of the boys were drowned in the heavy clamor of the rain before Johnny pushed his shivering little finger up, a wild grin plastered on his face.

"Let's make him a slave!" he shouted.

Some of the boys cheered, some booed and said that his idea was stupid.

"But we need a slave!" Johnny stubbornly shouted. "And they beat slaves – my dad said so – and they make them do all kinds of horrible stuff and they can do all they want to them—"

"We can beat him up when we're bored then!" another boy shouted excitedly. Somewhere in the crowd, a boy named Wilfred shuddered and retreated to the back of the group, the fresh marks of bruises still pooling on the sides of his arms, legs and chest.

Jack thought about it. _A slave_…

He looked at the boy on the sand. Ralph was still coughing and gasping for breath, the fresh wounds on his body bleeding and turning dark red with old blood. They looked deliciously inviting on his skin. Jack experimentally prodded Ralph on the arm with his spear, and the boy let out a weak scream as more blood oozed out. The sight and sound amused Jack to no end. Yes, Ralph would be a much better punching bag than that boy Wilfred.

"Tie him up," he said quietly to Roger, who casted a look at Jack – a quiet look that said, _Are you sure?_

Jack angrily glared at him. "Do what I say!"

Roger then stooped down, grabbed some nearby creepers and immediately tied Ralph with it. Jack looked away to the forest. The fire had died down and the smoke had dissipated away with the rain. Only black ashes and charred corpses of trees were left behind.

"You two!" he shouted to Maurice and Bill. "Carry our… slave. Take him to Castle Rock. The rest of you – go back to the fort! Come on, _back_!"

The crowd of boys cheered, glad that they would be free of the battering of the rain, and immediately started to rush back to the other end of the island while Maurice and Bill hauled Ralph and half-dragged him through the sand. The fair-headed boy whimpered and groaned as the coarse sand brushed painfully against his grazed skin, but made no attempts to escape. Jack smirked as he watched the helpless body of Ralph disappear along the beach.

"Chief."

Jack turned around swiftly, only to face his hangman's grave face. There were dark circles around Roger's eyes, but they weren't caused by lack of sleep – they're just a part of his face. Something that added to the icy remoteness of Roger.

"What?" Jack grunted, making his way along the damp sand towards Castle Rock. Roger followed closely behind, eyeing his chief with scrutiny.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "Having Ralph alive, I mean—"

"Of course I am," Jack snapped. "This is good for you, too. Now you have a new… _toy_." Jack laughed at his own sentence and realized that he did feel this happy once when his father bought him a new tank once upon a time in the past.

Roger said nothing else, and the two figures moved along the beach, to their fort of rocks.

None of the boys knew, that miles away from the island, the seas swirled and churned in a great storm, and the navy ship that had been so close to granting rescue to the boys rocked, swayed, and smashed into the depths of the ocean as the waves overtook it.

**Well, I hope you like it. D: I'm not that great a writer. Sorry. And I love that quote on the beginning of the story, because it just made Jack's obsession with Ralph so cannon :D Bravo Mr. Golding for realizing the boys' homosexuality. **

**[Oh, in case anyone didn't know about Wilfred, well, he's in chapter 10 and evil Jack had him beaten up even though Wilfred did nothing. Poor boy. And Golding's evil as well for not mentioning him anymore. The boy needs more love, for goodness' sake.]**


	2. Chapter 2: In the Lair

**Oh, well, people hate my story. D: I guess I'm not a really good writer. But because I'm a stubborn prat, here comes chapter two of epic failure. If you want me to stop, just flame / review. I accept every single forms of opinion.**

_Ralph was running through the dancing bright flames again. _

_The trees were screaming. The shrubs were crying for help. The pigs squealed in terror and stared helplessly as the flames licked their vulnerable flesh and burnt them away…_

_In the distance, Ralph could hear someone screaming – a scream so familiar to that day when the beach ran red with Simon's blood._

_Ralph couldn't bear it any longer. The fire was drawing nearer … soon, it would have the pleasure of scorching through his skin, rendering him into something like those pigs Jack roasted for his feasts. _

_The scream grew louder._

_Ralph couldn't breath. The smoke settled into his lungs, suffocating him from the inside, gagging him invisibly. Like how the beast had killed them all._

A sudden spray of icy coldness woke Ralph with a start. He coughed and gasped as he felt pain snaking through the skin on his face and neck where the cold thing had sprayed all over him. A sound of laughter echoed behind him.

"Like the taste of seawater, Ralphie?"

A harsh boom of chuckling and laughter filled the space again.

Ralph blinked several times, trying to ignore the pain, and realized that he was tied up in a cave, lying flat on his stomach with his face pressed sideways on the hard ground. From his limited vision, he could see a glimpse of Samneric's terrified faces – both of them shivering and horribly drenched. All around them were the savages, grinning and nudging around in glee. _Just like after they caught a pig_, Ralph thought, and quickly diverted his mind away from the subject.

Just then, a hand traveled to his hair and jerked his head up forcefully. Ralph found himself looking – or rather, trying to look away from – Jack Merridew's icy blue eyes. The boy was smirking widely.

"And the Sleeping Beauty awakes," he mocked, suddenly bashing Ralph's head back to the ground – not hard enough to cause a concussion, but violent enough to cause red spots to jump into Ralph's vision and the world around him to sway dangerously. The fair-headed boy groaned and blinked several times, trying to urge back the tears of terror, humiliation and pain. The unreal laughter of the savages filled the air again.

"You two! Yeah, you twins!" shouted Jack, turning to Samneric all of a sudden. The two identical boys jumped and shuddered even more. "Any seawater left?"

"Y—Yes, Chief," came the chattering answer of Sam.

"Good," Jack said. Ralph could vision the savage chief smirking. "Bring it over here."

There was a rush of footsteps and the twins came back. Ralph couldn't see what they brought, but he was sure it was a coconut shell full of saltwater – prepared especially for his torture. He was right. Soon enough, Jack made a grab for him and turned him forcefully so that he was lying on his back. Ralph was suddenly aware of the bruises and horrible scratches on his chest and legs.

Jack stared at Ralph's face, his blue eyes gleaming with pride and menace and utter victory. Ralph returned his gaze with his own blank eyes. Jack didn't seem to like this. He quickly fingered a part of his chest – the part where Jack's spear had met his skin with full force the day Piggy died, and Ralph winced. The wound hurt badly and the chase from the tribe did not make it any better. In fact, Ralph could almost feel some blood oozing through the wound again as Jack's fingers dug hard into it. Ralph let out a soft whimper.

Jack's smirk grew even wider, and he turned to Samneric, who each were still holding the shell of seawater.

"Go on," he said slyly. "Pour that water on your beloved chief. Not that he is any longer, is he?"

Some of the savages laughed, and Ralph glanced just in time to see Samneric's shocked faces. Ralph felt slightly hurt. Why should Jack do this? He had everything – he had Ralph as a prisoner, he had all of Ralph's group, and now he had to make Ralph feel betrayed and turn his friends against him – friend who didn't even want to be tangled in his savage tribe. Ralph felt the intense serpent of hatred coiling in his chest, burning his senses, blinding the limits of his body. With his last surge of power, Ralph spat right on Jack's face.

The Chief turned on him, his eyes glowing with fire and wrath. He released Ralph for a while, grabbed the shells from Samneric, and threw all the contents onto the wound he fingered. Ralph immediately felt the hot, searing pain, digging hard into his flesh, scorching his skin, and forcing Ralph to let out an anguished scream of pain. Jack threw the coconut shell down onto his head, and the savages laughed again.

Jack turned to them, so that Ralph could only see his back amidst his tears of pain.

"Drag the prisoner to my cave!" he shouted. "We shall torture him again tomorrow… After I teach him some lessons."

The savages whooped cheerfully, and Ralph felt hands grabbing his arms and feet, dragging him painfully and mercilessly across the ground and through a small opening. The boys then chucked him on the ground, causing Ralph to moan in pain, but they ignored him and rushed out almost immediately, as if they had just stepped into somewhere forbidden.

_Of course,_ thought Ralph miserably. _This is their Chief's lair. The ultimate hell_.

Footsteps soon echoed throughout the cave. Ralph shuffled uncomfortably on the ground and tried to break free, but the person – who, of course, is Jack Merridew – forced him down and straddled him, his eyes glinting with fury.

"Think you're so powerful, eh, Ralph?" he hissed, his head bent so low to Ralph's that their lips were almost touching. The fair-headed boy was forced to look away, but Jack slapped him painfully on the cheek.

"_Look at me when I'm talking!_" he hissed. Ralph stared blankly back. Jack made an angry sound and reached for his knife, which was tucked safely by his waist. He took the authoritative blade and pressed it against the skin below Ralph's earlobe. The metal felt cold and sharp against Ralph's skin. He felt the rush of terror flooding into his chest, and he found himself gasping, as the blade slowly drew blood from his skin.

"Jack," he whimpered involuntarily. "Please. Please don't."

Jack let out a victorious snarl and pressed harder, cutting his flesh even deeper. Ralph let out a restrained cry, his entire body struggling to overcome his captor, but Jack was much too strong. After what seemed like hours of agony, Jack withdrew his blade, and stared at Ralph's face with a hungry look on his face.

He lifted one finger and traced down the blood that had flowed from the new wound, smiling wildly as Ralph gasped and whimpered. The savage chief suddenly grabbed Ralph's hair and jerked his head sideways, so that the side of his head was fully in vision to him. Jack smirked, bent down, and licked the blood off the cut. Ralph let out a cry of surprise and anger.

"Jack!" he gasped furiously. "You bloody bastard! You—"

He thrashed around violently, trying to run away from Jack's hot breath and tongue, but his hands and legs were tied too tight and Jack himself was much too heavy to knock away with bound limbs. Ralph couldn't blink back his tears again. He found himself crying – whether it's in humiliation, anger, pain, or hopelessness, he did not know. Jack was sitting up again, staring at him with interest.

"Oh, boohoo, the _chief_ is bawling away," he laughed, licking a speck of blood on his lips. He bent over again, tracing Ralph's scratched cheek with one finger. "We're going to have so much fun, aren't we, my lovely little piglet?"

He drew back before Ralph could spit out some more rebellious words, and sauntered out of the cave.

In the silence of the cave and nothing but the sounds of his little sobs, Ralph could almost hear the beat of the storm outside – and the little familiar scream he had heard in his dreams.


	3. Chapter 3: A Gift from the Sea

**Well, it's been a long time since I wrote the last chapter – but it's Christmas holidays now, so I'm free! :D Hopefully I'll update sooner. Anyways:**

**WARNING: No slash in this chapter, but it IS a slash fic, so expect some slash later. And I did put this in the supernatural genre, so expect some supernatural stuff. For those who have deadly phobias to the supernatural and homosexuality, you are free to bash your computer screen or just close the window like civilized people.**

**You are free to review/flame/curse/criticize me.**

**RaveInACave: Thx! I'm glad you like my story **** I know I shouldn't jump into conclusions quickly, but that's just me. I'm never really successful in and I'm just glad to see reviews.**

**SideShowJazz1: Thx! I do want the readers to feel the pain.**

**TuesdayNovember: There. No more singular tenses for Samneric. Let me know if I make that mistake again **

**Jezzz: Thx! I'm glad you like it.**

**Thank you to banana-san, pokecrazy99, Jezzz and FueledByCoffee for adding this story to their favorites / alerts list. **

_The tribe's ululation can be heard from the distance. Slowly, one by one, they filed out of the charred remains of the woods, mere stick figures against the gigantic shadows of tree corpses and those that are lucky enough to still hold their grounds. Jack was up front, a smirk on his exhausted face, and Roger, as always, was one step behind his chief. The hunt had not gone well. The pigs were scattered everywhere after that forest fire, and a lot of them are burnt to death; but the boys managed to catch a rather plump one that day. As soon as they reached Castle Rock, Jack gave them the signal to lower the carcass down, but stopped Roger as he began to move forward to skin the animal. _

"_Wait," the Chief said, his eyes glinting. "Bring out the prisoner."_

_Two of the boys hurried into the cave, dragging the beaten Ralph with them. The fair-headed boy was horribly skinny and decorated with fresh, bloody prints of small cuts and bruises. They dropped him in the middle of the circle of boys, next to the bloody carcass of the pig. The boys swarmed over to the two limp bodies and tied them together, their unreal, silvery laughter echoing through the whole end of the island. With a smirk engraved on his face, Jack reached for his spear, still drenched in pig's blood, and pointed it at the twins, who were hunched together into one pale, scared being. _

"_You twins," he snickered, gesturing to Ralph and the pig. "You get the honors of beating those two pigs."_

_The twins shivered and made no move, but Roger approached them in one authoritative step and the twins knew what they had to do. Whenever they hesitated, another boy would shove them hard with their own spears, or Roger himself would hit the twins on the head, and Samneric continued to beat on the lump that is Ralph and the pig, tears running down their faces as Ralph's anguished pleads diminished to silent, choking sobs of pain. _

_Down the rocky cliff of Castle Rock, the sea roared and gurgled – a monstrosity returning what it had taken away. _

Ralph's eyes cracked open.

He was greeted by the warm, friendly sight of a small fire, the damp smell of the cave and the unpleasant smell of blood. He blinked, slightly taken aback by the sudden mixture of light, stench and pain that attacked his dull senses. Ralph groaned. He felt sick, hungry and thirsty. His mind tottered back to the days when his mom would come whenever he felt slightly ill, comforted him and gave some horrible-tasting medicine to help him heal, but only a few broken fragments of memory would come to his mind. How long has it been since he was captured anyway? It felt like weeks of torture. He had been taught that bad people in hell undergone eternal torture – whenever they die, they'll soon be resurrected back to endure the pain all over again. _You don't have to go to hell if you have Jack Merridew by your side_, he thought bitterly, wincing as he tried to move his body.

His whole skin was sizzling in pain. They were mostly cuts and bruises – not fatal enough to kill – but Jack knew how much to inflict maximum pain to his victims. Ralph felt the sudden urge to get up, grab a stick and hit Jack Merridew full in the head. He had never hated a person that much. Ralph could never understand how a murderer could be so cruel to take away someone's life, but now he felt that he himself was starting to comprehend. And then the reality struck – he was becoming more and more like a savage; like Jack Merridew, like Roger, like the bloody murderers of Piggy and Simon.

Then his mind wandered to Samneric. Have they turned savage yet? He knew they only beat him up and participated in torturing him because of Jack and Roger's threats, but he still felt that fear – the fear that the twins would one day find joy in humiliating him and fully became part of Jack's tribe. It wasn't sensible for him to think that, he knew, but nothing was sensible or rational on this island. The good never won over evil.

Ralph painfully looked over to his right. As always, he found Jack's sleeping figure, his back faced to Ralph so that he could only see the shadows of his fiery red hair. It's unbecoming. Had Jack slept beside him several days ago, Ralph would have had the strength to go and attack him – but now, he was so weak that the boys merely tied his hand to Jack, so that he could wake up as soon as Ralph made any suspicious movements. He wouldn't go and beat Jack up even if he had the power to do so, though – there were almost 30 of them and only one of him. One little touch on the Chief's hair and the tribe would come and ram his head on a stick.

With a frustrated groan, he rolled the other way, so that he could no longer watch Jack Merridew. He had had enough seeing the monster awake and shouting his head off; he didn't need to watch him sleeping and haunting his own slumber as well. Ralph tiredly watched the little fire just a few feet ahead from him, flickering and dancing in its own rhythm. The fire that he had always cherished, the fire that he thought would bring them home. Now it stood there, happily crackling and doing its own little dance, as if mocking Ralph for his failure.

He watched the bright orange shadows for a while, feeling ever so peaceful. The boys are asleep (except for the guards, obviously), and there was no more noise aside from the warm sound of fire crackling. Ralph started to focus on the thin layer of smoke trailing from the fire and thought about its importance. Immediately the veil fell across his mind again, and this time, Ralph didn't make the effort to remember. The fire belonged to Jack Merridew now. The boys had no hope left.

Silently, he began to make out shapes from the thin smoke to entertain himself. His dad once told him this story about fairies and little spirits made of smoke, and that if he watched closely, he could see those little creatures. Ralph stopped believing in the story as soon as he was seven, but every time he was bored, he would try to create shapes from smoke, and this was one of those times. He was just getting to making a sheep out of the smoke that he noticed the smoke getting thicker.

Ralph froze.

One fleeting moment, he thought the fire had burnt something else and was causing havoc – but the fire was steadily small, weakly flickering in the distance. That was when Ralph noticed something else – gaseous, white and translucent – hovering in the distance, its form molding into the smoke. Ralph let out a choked scream.

In the dim light of the cave, the ghastly face of Piggy looked back at him, his eyes blank and naked without his glasses.

**To be honest, I don't like how I write this chapter. I think I'm too wordy and unfocused. Sorry D: **


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